


Find My Way

by Borfle



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Badass female character, Bucky Barnes Gets a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes with a man bun 2k16, F/M, Geographical Isolation, Hydra, Learning to trust, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Self-Acceptance, Self-Harm, Smut, Some angst, and a dash of fluff, and a lot of sass, female character misses Olive Garden breadsticks, learning to forgive, other heavy stuff, playful bantering, smutty smut smut later on, very brief mention of a suicide attempt, who is also vulnerable and sometimes cries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2018-08-12 22:10:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7951024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Borfle/pseuds/Borfle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hydra really put you through the wringer too, didn't they?" Bucky observed the cold expression on her face, "They almost killed you."</p><p>"They're going to wish they had if I ever get my hands on any one of them ever again."</p><p>Bucky smirked, he liked this girl already.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fragile

_Lord, my path has gone astray_  
I'm just tryin' to find my way  
Wandered here from far away  
I'm just tryin' to find my way... 

Valeriya loved everything about winter, especially now that she lived in Russia.

She loved it when the snow fell from the overcast sky and a blanket of white snow covered every possible surface, she loved sitting by her little fireplace with a hot cup of tea, and she definitely adored wearing all of her cozy winter coats. The glacial climate had always brought her great comfort, rather than the irritating heat that summer had to offer.

Oymyakon, a small, Russian village inhabited by only a little over four hundred individuals, is one of the coldest places on planet Earth. With a permanently frozen ground and sunlight for only three hours a day during winter, the place looked like the perfect setting for a post-apocalyptic movie. Stories were often told of the temperature once dropping to almost one hundred degrees below zero– but visitors never seemed quite surprised to hear this. During the brutal winters, villagers somehow lived off of reindeer meat and rabbit stew because everything else just died off. Most people did not own cars out of fear that the battery would just freeze or they would get in a fatal crash on the snow covered roads. Cell phones and other forms of technology didn't exist in a place like this; living in this village was like living on another planet.

If there was ever a place you wanted to go after faking your own death or even if you just wanted to fall off the face of the earth, Oymyakon was the place to do it. Everyone was too busy struggling to survive to give a damn about your background, what crimes you have committed, or even your name for that matter.

A clean slate.

That's what SHIELD had promised her after they tossed her away like one does with a piece of trash.

She couldn't quite blame them though– even she knew there was something wrong with her mind; some type of chemical imbalance that had been causing all of the dark thoughts in the back of her brain to surface. Natasha had noticed how her sleeping pattern became erratic, how she had gone eight months surviving on only an hour of sleep every night, sometimes no sleep at all. Clint would observe her on missions, watching silently as her dark eyes would gloss over and her mind went to another time and place. Tony and Bruce had noticed her dramatic weight loss and how every bone in her body seemed to become more and more prominent against her sickly pale skin or how she was drinking more alcohol than she used to.

People had started to look at her like she was a psychopath.

Who knows? Maybe she was.

_Maybe she still is._

Certainly there were nights where it felt like her head was about to spontaneously combust-- thoughts of malevolence and rampage lingering on the forefront of her mind. Never in her life had she felt such an overwhelming sense of bloodlust, the desire to make another human being suffer just like they had done to her once in her life was so overwhelming sometimes. Nightmares and terrors plagued her dreams; she could feel their hands all over her body, poking and prodding at certain areas, taking down notes whenever she cried out in pain or responded to a treatment in a peculiar way. She would spend countless hours thinking of all the ways she could kill those men; she wanted it to be as slow and painful as possible.

_Yes, she wanted all of those men to suffer._

Valeriya Checkhov was not a ruthless person though.

No, Valeriya did not take pleasure in killing people and whenever dark thoughts would cross her mind, she would remind herself that she was still a human being.

Despite what most people thought, she was an unbelievably emotional individual-- or at least she used to be. She had been a skilled assassin and did her job effortlessly, but that didn't mean she was cut out for that life. Unlike many of her former comrades, she didn't have a cold personality and always let her conscious get the best of her. There were times where she would come back from missions and suffer in solitude, crying out in pain when the realization that she had killed another human being finally set in. Director Fury always tried to convince her that they had been the enemy and that they had been terrorists and murderers, but that never really eased the pain.

Was she any different? 

Killing people was almost just as easy as breathing for her; doesn't that make her a murderer too?

Even now, as Valeriya walked the eerily silent streets of the little village, her mind was flooded with flashbacks of the incident that had landed her a life of complete solitude in the coldest place on Earth. She knew SHIELD would never take her back after the things she had done; those horrible things she had done-- the crimes she had committed were unforgettable and unforgivable. Valeriya wished she would have been sentenced to death; it would have been a lot easier than dealing with the everlasting guilt and the hostile glares SHIELD agents constantly gave her.

She no longer had to worry about that though—it’s not like she was ever going to see any of them again.

Valeriya stood underneath a dimly lit streetlight and watched as snow relentlessly attacked the small village.

It was quiet and peaceful though, the only noises coming from the wind rustling tree branches and her quiet breathing.

What a strange place to call home.

 

The Winter Soldier couldn't remember a time in his life where he had been so cold.

At this point, he was really starting to despise winter.

Though he knew he hadn't been born in Russia, he had definitely spent a lot of time in the vindictive region and knew just how harsh the climate could be in the winter-- but this was different. Seemingly every muscle in his body was taut as he tried to warm himself up, even the sensors in his bionic arm were going into overdrive and he longed to find a warm place to sleep; but he had a mission and he had to find the familiar woman from his nightmares.

_The girl with the sad eyes._

It had been the first time he was going on a mission on his own terms; he hadn't been ordered to eliminate anyone or bring them back to the Hydra base for interrogation, nobody had threatened to put him in a cryogenic stasis if he failed this mission, and he didn't have to worry about them wiping his mind anymore.

He was finally doing something for himself.

The soldier pulled his metal hand out of the pocket of his coat, observing the crumpled photograph that he had been using as a reference for the past seven months. A girl with blonde hair stared right back at him; her dark eyes seemed to contrast deeply against her pale skin and light hair. She had been with Steve Rogers that day in D.C. and every instinct in his brain told the soldier to kill her, and he almost had. Bucky remembered wrapping his metal fingers around her throat, watching with misery as she attempted to breathe as he squeezed the life from her. He had been incredibly frustrated when she didn't struggle against his grip; she had merely accepted that she was going to die because of him and she was alright with that. A part of him didn't want to kill her, but he had been ordered to kill Steve Rogers and anyone else that got in his way. He remembered hearing Captain America begging for him to stop as the light faded from her eyes, but he didn't listen. Her eyelids had started to flutter, the colour had drained from her face, and her bow-shaped lips were pulled into a pained grimace as a few tears slipped from her dark brown eyes.

Then the girl reached up and had touched his cheek with her cold fingertips.

_He remembered._

Not everything, but enough to know that he had once known the girl and she held some significance in his long forgotten memories.

She had once worked with Hydra too?

James Barnes shook his head as the thought crossed his mind; he remembered the look on the girl's face when Brock Rumlow had carelessly tossed her into a cell across from his holding room. It was the same expression he had seen on many of his victim's faces right before he killed them-- fear. That had been so long ago though, but Bucky couldn't be quite sure how long. Time had always been a foreign concept to him; ten years sometimes felt like ten days to the soldier. 

But he remembered her facial features so vividly.

Even when they painfully wiped his mind clean, her sad face continued to haunt him nearly every day. It got to a point where he thought something was wrong with him; maybe his handlers weren't wiping his mind enough, maybe they needed to make the treatments longer and more intense, maybe he was just broken.

_Broken..._

How come he never forgot about her?

The Winter Soldier wasn't supposed to remember things from his past, and he definitely wasn't supposed to have conflicting emotions.

There were nights where he would pass her cell, listening to her whimper and sniffle as she tried to contain her sobs; it was the first time the Winter Soldier ever felt guilt or pity for another human. She had been a lot younger back then, her cheeks had been a little chubbier and she had clearly been going through an awkward teen phase what with the metal braces attached to her teeth and the few blemishes on her chin and forehead. There was a certain innocence to her that just seemed so extraordinary in a dark place like that Hydra base and for whatever reason, it caused a dull ache in the soldier's chest.

James' head started to hurt as other memories resurfaced from the depths of his mind; they were awful memories and the girl with the sad eyes were in all of them. She had been screaming out for his help, but why? Were they hurting her? His eyebrows pinched together as he desperately tried to remember what Hydra had done to her. She had been so young at the time... Hydra wouldn't hurt someone so innocent just for fun, would they?

_Boy, had he been so wrong._

The soldier frowned and continued walking through the quiet village, focusing back on his mission. After showing the photograph to a few villagers, he finally got word from an elderly man saying she lived on the outskirts of the village in a small wooden cabin with a blue mailbox-- that detail wasn't very important though, considering a heavy layer of snow and ice seemed to cover ever single surface for miles.

He made a left turn off the path he had been walking on and froze in his tracks.

James squinted his eyes and looked at the figure that was standing a few yards away from him, right under a streetlight-- as if she wanted him to see her. She was tiny—more so than he remembered. He must have had a good ten inches on her and at least ninety pounds or so and she was quite thin, Bucky noticed. They were all characteristics that seemed completely opposite of an assassin and Bucky thought she looked rather… endearing? He advanced closer until he could see her facial features better, confirming that it was the same woman he had seen months before. Her hair was darker now and fell to the center of her back in a thick french braid that she would occasionally pull over her shoulder and play with. The dark locks were nearly the same shade of brown as her eyes and she was certainly a lot paler now from the lack on sunshine in this part of Russia. His eyes scanned her mournful expression, noticing how she suddenly seemed more emaciated and exhausted than he remembered; the dark circles under her eyes left James with the impression that she hadn't been getting nearly enough sleep lately. They both had that in common and he knew that horrible memories must have consumed her thoughts at night as well, keeping her awake until some ungodly hour in the morning.

Despite living in such a brutal climate, she looked warm– like she was used to this type of weather.

Like she was especially designed for it.

He knew of her reputation and had heard all the stories from Hydra agents and had even seen her file; most people had taken to referring to her as a shadow in the night— _nonexistent._

Yet here she was.

James watched closely as she wrapped her fur coat tighter around her dainty frame and pulled the giant hood over her head; revealing a bow and set of arrows that were securely strapped to her back, along with a string of dead rabbits. The corner of his lips twitched in the slightest bit—clearly she wasn't having any trouble surviving all by herself, without SHIELD. She gazed up into sky, observing the dark abyss for a few moments before continuing her small journey back to her residence. There was something so graceful about the way she moved quietly through the snow; she still moved like an assassin, James noticed. Every step she took was well thought out and perfectly calculated, her head held high and her dark eyes searching for any targets even though she knew she wasn't going to find any. It was one of the many aspects of being an assassin—always being on the lookout for any suspicious suspects. 

Bucky felt sorry for this girl, because as he continued to follow her in the complete and utter isolation that this village had to offer, he realized something that even made the Winter Soldier's chest ache.

Valeriya Checkhov was quite possibly the loneliest girl on the face of the Earth.


	2. The Haunted

Valeriya knew there was someone in her house the moment she opened the front door.

Whether it was SHIELD or Hydra, she wasn't sure.

Ignoring the small puddle of water on the wooden floorboards, she advanced further into her home. Unfortunately for her, Valeriya didn't quite care if the intruder was also an assassin who wanted to kill her; she had already accepted the fact that death was inevitable and a part of her wished that someone would put her out of her misery already. Instead of pulling out one of the many weapons she had on her, she sauntered through the main room and into the kitchen as she normally would, not acknowledging the intruder in the slightest. After lighting a few candles and carelessly tossing the string of rabbits onto a cutting board, Valeriya shrugged her large fur coat off and kicked her boots off as well, ignoring the slushy mess they made on her kitchen floor. She craned her neck to the side, listening to the sound of her bones cracking in the silence of her house, bringing relief to her stiff muscles, and proceeded to do the same to her aching back.

Then she heard the shuffling of another human from a few feet behind her.

She smirked, “If you're going to kill me, you might as well do it now and make it quick.”

_Silence._

She rolled her eyes and went on with her day like she normally would, despite the fact that the other individual in her home could have been a potential killer.

Valeriya pulled out her pocket knife and proceeded to skin the rabbits, a skill she had acquired when she had first moved to Oymyakon and started to hunt for her own food. She enjoyed hunting and she took comfort in knowing that she could provide for herself in the worst case scenario. Plus she knew she was damn good shot with a bow and arrow; she couldn't even remember the last time she had missed her target. Who knows? Maybe someday she would be more skilled than Clint.

The thought made her smirk.

Valeriya heard a soft sigh from behind her and then the intruder finally spoke.

“You don't remember me.”

His voice was so quiet—Valeriya wasn't even sure she heard him at first.

She slowly turned on her heels, setting the bloody pocket knife on the counter next to the rabbits. In the darkness of her home, she squinted her eyes and tried to get a good visual on the tall man. She stepped closer, pulling her lighter out of her pocket and flicking it open. The flame illuminated the side of his scruffy face; his eyes were scrutinizing her every move, but he definitely wasn't going to attack her based on his relaxed stance. Much like Valeriya, there were dark circles underneath his eyes and it looked like he wasn’t getting much sleep either. His shoulder length hair was mostly a knotted mess, a few matted strands falling in front of his face. He wore a black pea coat with a belt tied around his midsection, concealing the Hydra uniform he still wore underneath it; what caught her attention was the faded red star on one of the sleeves. Valeriya lowered her gaze to his gloved hands, finally noticing the pocket knife grasped loosely in his metal hand– if he wanted to attack her, he definitely would have done it already.

Her stiff posture finally relaxed.

How could she forget him?

“James Barnes,” She smiled softly, “You're a long way from home, soldier.”

“ _Home_ ,” The word made him scoff as he placed his knife in his utility belt and visibly relaxed as well, “I've been looking for you, Valeriya Checkhov.”

“And how's that been working out for you?”

“Took me seven months to find your exact location,” He grunted, “You're a very hard woman to find—I was starting to doubt your existence.”

“Yet here you are.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and met his profound gaze; even though he had found his target, he still looked so lost. His eyebrows were pinched together in confusion; his stormy blue eyes searched Valeriya's face frantically– as if he was still confirming that she was actually standing in front of him. He resembled a cornered animal and though he knew he was safe here, for the most part, he was still terrified. It seemed as though this was the first contact he had with another human being since the incident back in D.C. and Valeriya wondered just how long he had been wandering this world all alone.

“Sit,” Valeriya ordered, pointing to the raggedy couch in the main room, “Take your coat off and try to relax, you're safe now. You're cold and hungry; I'll cook up something warm for you.”

James stiffly nodded; his fingers trembled as he undid the belt and metallic buttons on his coat and cautiously tugged it away from his body. Was it safe to get comfortable in such an unfamiliar setting? Did he really trust this girl? What if she was going to tell SHIELD his whereabouts? What if—

“Also,” She started to speak from her spot in the kitchen, “I accept your apology for trying to kill me on that helicarrier back in D.C., no hard feelings at all. Maybe I should thank you for giving me a bad ass scar on my ribcage; it makes for a cool story. I like to tell people I got in a fight with a huge grizzly bear on one of my missions; they usually don't believe me though, never was much of a liar.”

He had heard that tone of voice before— _humour_?

“I thought I had killed you,” He spoke quietly, remorsefully, “I hacked into SHIELD's database a week later and found your file, your status said you were still alive but that you were missing.”

She shrugged, “I was unconscious for a couple of days, nothing too major.”

“I stabbed you and nearly strangled you to death,” He huffed, “Sounds kind of major to me.”

The Shadow Assassin gave him a toothy grin, “Sounds like my kind of party, to be honest.”

Bucky scowled at her weird sense of humor and chose to ignore it for now.

“Why did you run away?”

Valeriya scoffed, “I did not run away, SHIELD—or at least what was left of SHIELD--fired me after coming across some not so flattering files about my past.”

James remained silent upon this revelation; he had thought for sure that after the events that took place in D.C., she had fled the country because she was scared. He had thought she was scared of being captured by Hydra again, or maybe she thought the soldier was going to come after her and finish her off. Clearly his theories had been way off though. Valeriya wasn't scared of dying anymore, that had already been established when she didn't attack him after he had broken into her house. However, James was now curious as to why SHIELD had fired one of their most beloved assassins—she was one of their strongest weapons, after all.

Judging by the bereaved expression on her face, she didn't want to talk about any of that.

So he didn't ask.

Valeriya knew that he was watching her while she stirred her concoction in a large pot on top of the stove; she tossed in pieces of rabbit meat into the stew and made her way back to the main room. He watched as she readjusted a few pieces of firewood in the fireplace and struck a match, lighting a fire to warm up the house. James winced as she grabbed a fur throw from the arm rest of the couch and wrapped it around his shoulders securely; he immediately started to feel warmer and ignored how close she was to him.

“Take your boots off,” She demanded, “You'll warm up faster, trust me.”

_Trust me..._

He repeated the words in his head—when was the last time he had fully trusted someone?

Bucky couldn't even trust himself.

He thought about his handlers back at the Hydra base, but no... James had never trusted them. They had always just been a means of getting through his missions; he never would have even considered talking to them about the thoughts that had been running rampant through his mind. Alexander Pierce had most certainly been a person he thought he could trust at one point, but he had been so terribly mistaken in thinking something so absurd. No, he had been nothing more than a weapon to Pierce, 'a gift to mankind’, he had once been referred to as.

_Steve..._

Steve Rogers!

They had been friends at one point in his life, at least that's what James had put together from the pieces of his memories. Steve Rogers had been in many of his memories, but it couldn't have been the same man he fought in D.C.? No, the man from his memories was smaller, skinnier, and definitely not as strong as the man he had been ordered to kill. The man hadn't always been known as Captain America; what had happened that turned the sick little boy into some sort of herculean man?

A loud groan fell past his lips as the back of his head started to ache.

Valeriya frowned and moved closer to help the frightened man, but he held up his hand, motioning her not to come any closer out of fear that he would snap and hurt her unintentionally.

He didn't want to harm anymore innocent people— he couldn't bear the thought of having any more blood on his hands.

Instead, she stood perfectly still and talked to him as the ache gradually started to fade away; he had no clue what she was rambling on about, but her voice was relaxing and gentle and that's all that really mattered to him. James lifted his head and blinked the blurriness away from his vision. Rather than the darkness he had become so accustomed to seeing after having these painful flashbacks, he was met with a pair of dark brown eyes and the emotion he saw in them was completely foreign to him... was that a concerned expression on her face? James frowned, why would this girl be concerned for him?

“--it's not like it was my fault that I threw up in that Olive Garden,” He finally understood what she was saying and wished he could tune out the absurd story, “Like, they were having all you could eat bread sticks and salad; I didn't really care too much for the salad, but oh my god— _the bread sticks_ —I must have eaten like thirty. I just couldn't stop eating them and the waiter wouldn't stop bringing them out to our table, what the hell was I supposed to do? Not eat as many as I could? Steve and Natasha were so embarrassed when I got in a fight with the manager and then--”

“Please,” Bucky held up his metal hand and sighed, “I'm good, you can stop talking now.”

“--And that's the story about how I got banned from an Olive Garden in the middle of nowhere Minnesota.”

“Yeah, thanks for telling me.”

He tensed up as she knelt down in front of him, her nimble fingers easily unlaced his boots and she swiftly stood back up, ordering him to take his boots off once again. This time he didn't hesitate, he listened to her orders as if one of his handlers or Alexander Pierce had just given him a mission; but that wasn't the case anymore. Valeriya wasn't mean or vicious, she wasn't going to harm him or threaten him—unlike his handlers. If anything, she would drive him crazy with her obnoxious stories, but that was nothing compared to the torture he had endured with Hydra.

James Barnes remembered her kindness from his memories.

He remembered a warm, soft hand cupping his cheek in the complete and utter darkness of the cell they had kept her in. The soldier wasn't supposed to be in there, but it was the only time he could remember being genuinely curious about one of Hydra's prisoners. If there had ever been a time in his long-lived life where he had been both appalled and even a little horror-stricken, it had been when he first saw a young girl lying in a gory heap on the cold floor in a lonely Hydra cell. She didn't cry as the soldier cautiously approached her, but her eyes grew wide and fearful as he knelt down next to her, inspecting the cuts and bruises on her face. One of her dainty little hands reached out for him, as if asking for his help, but then her fingertips touched his cheek and he was shocked to find that his instincts weren't screaming at him to kill the innocent looking girl.

Then she spoke... but James could never remember her gentle words.

Even now, when he felt safe enough to sleep and Valeriya would make appearances in his dreams, her words always seemed to blur together. It had always been frustrating beyond belief and he always tried his hardest to remember what she had said to him that day—to the point where his head actually felt like it was about to implode.

God, he just wanted to remember everything about her.

Every word she had spoken to him... every look she had given him.

' _Please just let me remember._ '

“Dinner should be ready in about an hour,” She interrupted his thoughts, “Until then, how about we get you all cleaned up, yeah?”

James glanced at the woman wearily before nodding his head.

**Later that night**

Valeriya had accomplished many difficult tasks in her short life.

She had killed some of the world's most feared terrorists, traveled to the darkest depths that this world had to offer, and worked alongside some of the most skilled assassins on the planet. She had participated in several civil wars, taking part in toppling regimes and assassinating tyrants and dictators. Learning different languages came as naturally to her as a sponge absorbing water and she could recite formulations, equations, and interpretations that she had learned in her quantum mechanics class in a heartbeat. Despite her petite stature and her warm and kindhearted demeanor, most of her peers had learned early on that she was not one to be messed with.

She was the Shadow Assassin—she worked in the dark and villains feared her like a child feared a fictional monster that hid under their bed or in their closet at night.

Valeriya, however, was not fictional--she was very much real.

However, none of that seemed to matter as she struggled to comb out all of the large knots that had accumulated throughout Bucky's disheveled hair. The soldier remained completely uncommunicative and motionless as she sat behind him on the mattress that pulled out from the couch, seeming perfectly at ease even though she was painfully tugging the comb through his damp hair. At this point, it seemed as though this whole experience was more painful to Valeriya than the soldier who was going through it. 

Valeriya had managed to find a pair of sweats from the depths of her closet that were a couple sizes too big for her and let James wear them instead of the uncomfortable uniform he had previously been wearing—there was no way in hell she was going to let him sleep in all of that chunky leather material. Now, his utility belt and other weapons were sprawled out carelessly on the coffee table, looking completely out of place next to all of her lit candles. His torso was completely bare as he absorbed the heat coming from the fireplace and Valeriya had definitely noticed the way he tried to conceal the scars where the lustrous metal met the flesh of his shoulder.

Like she even cared.

It wasn't as if she didn't have her own scars, but she could understand his insecurity and made sure to not even look in the same direction as his bionic arm.

“There we go,” She whispered as she combed through the last knot, feeling grateful that she didn't have to put the poor man through any more pain. James slightly turned his head and gave her a nod, wordlessly thanking her for helping him.

"Your hair is prettier than mine."

Bucky scoffed, " _Stop it_."

“Would you like some more food?” Valeriya offered, eyeing the empty ceramic bowl that he was grasping in both of his hands—but he simply shook his head and set it on the little table in front of the mattress. She readjusted her body so she was sitting cross legged in front of him, staring into his eyes. There was no expression upon his features, his eyes were completely vacant and his thin lips were pressed into a straight line—if anything, he looked incredibly exhausted from his long journey.

“Why are you here, Bucky? Not that I don't mind the company or anything.”

The corners of his lips tugged downwards into a frown, “I didn't know where else to go.”

“What about Steve?”

He shook his head almost agitatedly, “He makes my head hurt... I can't look at him without seeing all of those memories. I don't trust myself around him, I don't trust _him_.”

Valeriya leaned forward with a frown and rested her elbows on her knees, “Your memories are hurting you?”

“Mostly the ones with him,” His frown turned into a scowl, “I see them all so fast... none of it ever makes sense to me. Sometimes there are other people in my memories though, but they are all strangers—the only face I ever recognize is yours.”

“I'm in your memories?”

That had definitely peaked her curiosity.

There was no way this man could possibly remember her from over ten years ago, when she had essentially been a child then. How could he remember anything after all of the torture he underwent? Though her heart ached at the mere thought of someone going through that type of pain, she was still wondering what part she played in his memories. Did he remember all the horrible things those people had done to her? Did he still have memories of being in the same room when they did all of those horrible experiments on her? Could he still hear the heart-wrenching sounds of cries and screams for help?

All this time spent living in solitude and Valeriya had forgotten she was a human being with real emotions.

Which is why she was shocked when James' face became blurred as her own eyes started to burn with tears.

“Yes,” He answered cautiously, “I do not remember everything that happened, but I remember Hydra capturing you and...”

He turned his head away and closed his eyes; the sentence lingered in the air hauntingly.

“You helped me escape,” Her voice trembled, “You found out what they were doing to me and you helped me escape. I asked for your name and you told me it was the Winter Soldier-- I had to see you that day in D.C. to convince myself that it was really you. I was given the orders to kill you or capture you the first chance I got; they knew Steve Rogers would have hesitated.”

“So did you.”

She smiled weakly, “I couldn't do it... not when I saw the look in your eyes, not after I realized what you had been through.”

“I almost killed you,” He reminded her, “You should have never hesitated.”

Valeriya simply shrugged, “I just couldn't do it, I'm sure you understand”

Bucky ignored her statement.

“What did Hydra do to you? What did they want from you?”

He noticed the way every emotion left her face as he asked her those questions; clearly it was a sensitive subject for her to talk about. She stared out the window next to the couch and watched as snow continued to cover the little village, but it was obvious that her mind was in another place. It was a look he was well familiar with and he decided it was best not to pull her out of her own thoughts; he had no clue if she would react violently or not. As he observed her guardedly, he continued to wonder what Hydra had done to her... but the look on her face seemed to speak louder than words ever could. They had done awful things to her and Bucky wasn't sure what was worse; the thought of Hydra trying to turn her into a weapon much like they had done with him, or torturing her for information. Had they experimented on her like they had done to him? What if they had used electroshock therapy on her to make her forget about her past as well? Did they plan on putting her in a cryogenic stasis once they had accomplished brainwashing her as well?

"Hydra really put you through the wringer too, didn't they?" Bucky observed the cold expression on her face, "They almost killed you."

"They're going to wish they had if I ever get my hands on any one of them ever again."

Bucky smirked, he liked this girl already.

“That's a story for another day though,” She said, standing up from the mattress and grabbing both of their bowls, sauntering towards the kitchen. James noticed how she suddenly seemed so... tormented, with her head hanging low and her shoulders slumped.

He frowned, for some reason he didn't like seeing the woman so sad.

Valeriya walked past him and left the room for a few moments, returning with a couple of pillows and fur blankets in her hands. 

“Sleep now,” She tossed the pillows onto the mattress and set the folded up blankets next to where he was sitting, “There's a city about thirty miles west of this village, we'll ride there tomorrow when the sun comes out and get you some warmer clothes. I don't know how long you plan on staying, but if it's more than a week, you're definitely going to need more clothes.”

“You don't have a car,” He reminded Valeriya.

The corner of her mouth lifted up into a smirk, “I sure hope you like horses, Barnes.”


	3. The Wicked

“You're doing it again.”

Bucky's gaze flickered towards the woman who had been quiet for the last hour; she kept her eyes on the snow-covered path in front of her as she navigated her horse around a few large rocks with ease. She wore the same fur coat he had first seen her in and a woolly gray scarf was wrapped around the lower portion of her face; her bow and arrow were both strapped to her back and ready to be used in case she happened to spot a stray animal. A couple of burlap sacks full of frozen meat hung off of her horse's saddle; she had explained to Bucky that meat could be sold for money or other goods and that's why she was constantly on the lookout for animals to hunt.

“Doing what?”

“You're going into soldier mode again,” She explained, “Scoping your surroundings, being paranoid that someone is following us, ready to strike at any given moment. I told you earlier that we're safe here, even SHIELD doesn't know of my whereabouts and I can assure you nobody would ever guess that you're here with me.”

She allowed her horse to pick up the pace a little, breaking out into a little trot that James' horse seemed to mimic. 

“I know it's in your instincts to always be conscious of your surroundings, and that's fine, but you really don't have to worry about anyone following us.”

“You are sure of this?” He inquired, not quite believing the words coming from her mouth.

“I'm positive,” She reassured him, finally tearing her gaze from the path in front of her. 

James could tell by the way her eyes crinkled slightly that she was smiling at him from underneath her scarf.

He couldn't look away.

The look in her mocha colored eyes were unlike anything he had ever seen and something inside of his body seemed to burst, filling him with an unfamiliar warmth that he had never experienced. Despite their dark color, her eyes seemed so bright and warm. It was like she was comforting him without even saying anything, and it was certainly working.

Unfortunately for him, she eventually broke the little staring contest they had going on and returned her focus back to the path—making sure there weren't any obstacles that her horse could get injured on. The pair of assassins continued to make their way to the city that Valeriya has previously spoken of. Even though she had told him not to worry, Bucky couldn't stop himself from scoping out the area every once in a while. The mere thought of Hydra following him or Valeriya made his heart pound against his rib cage, especially when he thought of the condition he had first found her in upon Hydra capturing her years ago.

James wouldn't let that happen again.

Not if he could help it.

“Look,” Valeriya pointed to a couple buildings in the distance, “We're almost there.”

He followed closely behind her, feeling slightly apprehensive as his horse sped up considerably faster. He couldn't remember if he had ever ridden a horse on any of his missions, but after watching his smaller companion easily pull herself onto the equine's back, he simply mimicked her actions and went along with it. He was almost certain the enormous animal didn't like him—it would occasionally neigh at Bucky in an agitated manner, or refuse to turn in a certain direction when needed, but Valeriya was always there to help him out and calm his horse down.

Bucky quickly scanned his surroundings as they entered the city, searching for any unusual activity or shady looking people. However, most people moved out of the horse's way and kept their heads down as they scurried around the marketplace, searching for certain items in particular and yelling out prices in their native tongue. Some people would occasionally glance at him, noticing how differently he was dressed and how he stuck out like a sore thumb. In front of him, Valeriya gracefully swung herself off the horse, motioning Bucky to do the same.

“Just stay close and keep your head low, alright?” She grabbed both of the horse's reigns in either one of her hands, leading them to where a couple of other horses were tied up to a wooden boarding area next to a trough of water. 

He listened to her, staying right behind her as she led him through a few shops and exchanged the meat in the burlap sacks for other types of food, even buying a few carrots for the horses. He noticed the way her eyes crinkled and filled with complete delight as a small shop owner offered her a large sack of rice and potatoes for some of her rabbits; clearly it had been a while since she had eaten anything but meat and beets. Now, Bucky watched guardedly as she conversed with one of the merchants of a clothing shop in fluent Russian, talking like she had lived in the country her entire life. Even though he was fluent in the language as well, he struggled to keep up with how fast she was speaking—almost at a frantic pace. Valeriya held up one of her burlap sacks, explaining the contents of what was inside before requesting a trade for some of the clothes that the small store had to offer. A sour look spread across the middle-aged man's face and Bucky glared at him before he could open his mouth to decline Valeriya's offer.

“ _Here_ ,” Valeriya spoke in Russian, “Take all of the reindeer meat and what I have left of the rabbit meat too.”

She tossed him the sack, her eyes never leaving his face as he peeked into the bag and looked at her with wide eyes and a shocked expression. Valeriya knew how harsh the winters could be for those who didn't know how to hunt—honestly, this man needed the meat more than she did. A toothy grin spread across his face and he clapped his hands together, thanking her profusely and offering her his 'eternal gratitude'.

Valeriya sifted through the stacks of clothes, pulling out thermals and wool socks and scarves. He merely nodded whenever she asked for his input on an article of clothing, not really caring how he looked as long as he was warm. He listened intently as she explained how the key to staying warm during the winter was to wear multiple layers of clothing instead of wearing just one really thick layer of clothing--as if he didn't know this already, but he couldn't find it in himself to be rude to her and dismiss her advice. She tossed the numerous pieces of clothing into one of her empty sacks and when she was finally finished picking out all of his clothes, she tightened the drawstring on it and smiled at the merchant.

“Thank you for your generosity.”

He nodded happily, “Come back soon.”

Valeriya waved goodbye to the man as she cheerfully ventured back to where they had left their horses, completely unaware of how Bucky was observing her with an amused expression. She slowed her pace until he was walking right next to her and her eyes crinkled once again as she gazed up at him.

“Now you won't be so cold anymore.”

“I never was,” He retorted stubbornly.

She rolled her eyes, “Bullshit, I saw how cold you were last night. How long had you been walking around the village anyways? I'm surprised you didn't get hypothermia or pneumonia.”

Bucky didn't answer her question and their conversation came to a quick end as they approached their horses.

“What the hell?” Valeriya muttered at the sight in front of her.

A man, who only looked to be a few years older than her, was gripping the reigns of James' horse, unsuccessfully trying to tug him away from the trough. Bucky tensed as Valeriya approached the man, grabbing him roughly by the back of his coat and wasting absolutely no time in yelling at him in Russian.

“That horse belongs to me,” She hissed, yanking the reigns from his grasp, “I won't let you steal from me.”

“He doesn’t belong to you anymore,” The man said decisively, reaching out to take the reins once again, “The meat on his bones will feed me through this long winter.”

“You really don't want to mess with me,” Her voice was low and menacing and it threw Bucky off, as he had never heard her speak like that.

Bucky stepped forward, ready to take the man out when he saw his other hand lift up, ready to strike Valeriya.

However, everything happened so fast that even Bucky almost missed it.

Valeriya had pushed the dazed man down onto his chest in the cold snow and was gripping his wrist tightly, holding it in a painful position behind his back. Her knee was digging into the base of his spine and James noticed the look of immense discomfort on the man's face— _serves him right_.

“ _I said_ ,” She snarled, “The horse belongs to me and I won't let you take it; I don't give two shits whether you make it through the winter or not. Do you understand me now or do you want me to snap your arm like a twig so I can get the message across to you?”

She twisted his wrist, nearly breaking the bones as she waited for the man to answer.

“Please, stop!” He cried, “I understand, I'm sorry.”

Valeriya instantly released the man, rolling her eyes as he continued to gasp in pain. She grabbed both of her horse's reigns and walked away from the scene, keeping her head down low as she grabbed James' sleeve and pulled him along with her. This kind of behavior and activity was pretty normal in the city; she had learned a long time ago that thieves were around every corner, waiting for any opportunity to get their hands on someone else's livestock or food. Her eyes scanned her surroundings, but it looked as though nobody had really noticed or taken interest in the events that had just taken place—not like it even mattered. News was never a big deal in this part of Russia; burglary and assault happened on a regular basis, but it's not like anyone would ever hear about it on TV or in the newspaper.

Society couldn't give two shits about what goes on in this part of the world.

She glanced at Bucky who was trailing not too far behind her, staring down at his boots as he thought hard about something.

Valeriya slowed and came to a stop as they exited the city.

“What are you...?”

He grew quiet as she pulled an article of clothing out of the sack she had tied to her horse's saddle.

“I can tell you're cold,” She murmured, gently wrapping the wool scarf around his neck, “I know it's only a scarf, but it really does make a difference.”

He wanted to say thank you, but for some reason he just couldn't find the courage to speak.

Why was she being so nice to him?

He had almost killed her back in D.C..

“By the way,” She smiled sheepishly as she climbed onto her horse, “I'm usually not that violent, at least not anymore, so I'm uh, sorry you had to see that side of me. It's just... I've been taking care of these horses for months now and working hard to keep them strong and healthy, I don't exactly take kindly to people trying to steal them.”

“He got what he deserved,” James said quietly and hesitantly got back on his horse as well.

Then she said something that he never really would have expected her to say.

“Most people don't.”

Bucky wasn't sure why the statement surprised him—perhaps it was the hint of bitterness he detected in her low voice, or the darkness that seemed to flash through her eyes. Though he had only been with her a short amount of time, he had never really seen Valeriya truly angry or upset; she always seemed to have such a calm, relaxed demeanor in everything she did. James knew that having that sort of personality was just a part of being an assassin. You're never really supposed to show your emotions and talk about what's on your mind, just get the job done and move on with your life.

But Valeriya was completely different and she wanted revenge.

Bucky nearly smirked as he stared at her back—he almost felt bad for the people that had hurt her.

' _The Shadow Assassin..._ ' Bucky thought to himself; he had only heard stories about her and had never really seen her in action, except for that day on the helicarrier. However, Bucky didn't really count that scenario, considering she had been holding back from him. She was a fierce fighter though, remembering the story that he had heard from one of the Hydra agents about how she had easily taken down Brock Rumlow and broke his arm and his nose and took down five of his other men without breaking a sweat.

He knew just from the tone of her voice that someday, every person who had ever wronged her would be crushed under the weight of her wrath and nobody would be able to stop her.

Bucky tried to fathom how she had gained so much notoriety within the intelligence community--how she had gained so much power and raised fear in the hearts of some of the most feared villains.

“Can I ask you something?” Valeriya glanced at him over her shoulder, her eyebrows raised as she waited for him to respond.

He merely nodded.

“Brock Rumlow...” She started, instantly catching Bucky's interest, “He's still alive, isn't he?”

He couldn't lie to her, even as much as he wanted to do so in that moment.

“Yes, Brock Rumlow was pulled from the rubble that day in D.C., he was in critical condition and spent weeks recovering in the hospital and was released after a month. There are speculations that he is still working with what is left of Hydra, however, I am not certain of his current location.”

She stared at him, almost harshly—her eyebrows pinched together in the middle and her eyes narrowed in the slightest. For some reason he didn't like that expression, he liked it better when she was smiling and the corners of her eyes would crinkle with happiness. She slowed her horse down until they were slowly trotting side by side together, never breaking eye contact. Her features were still cold and harsh, but they weren't directed towards Bucky, _no_ , they were directed towards the man who had put her through a ridiculous amount of emotional and physical torture.

“You want to kill him.”

It wasn't a question; Bucky could easily see it in her eyes.

Rumlow had done something horrible to her and she wanted to make him suffer.

“I know what it's like,” He spoke quietly, capturing her attention, “That type of hatred, wanting to torture someone who hurt you badly. Don't let it consume you and turn you into a different person; I know you want revenge but you can't think about it all the time or else it will change you... you'll look at yourself one day and realized you've become a monster.”

“Is that what happened to you?”

He ignored her question and stared straight ahead, “You are a good person Valeriya, don't let the dark thoughts in your mind control you.”

“What if I can't stop it though? What if I can't control those dark thoughts?”

“You're a strong girl,” He scoffed, “You can stop anything and anyone from hurting or controlling you.”

**Later that Night**

“So how much do you remember? Anything from before working with Hydra?”

Valeriya sat across from Bucky on the floor in front of the fire place, her legs crossed and a bowl of borscht resting on top of her lap. He didn't acknowledge her as she asked the question, choosing to stare at the crackling flames instead. His eyes looked sad and his face worn out; years upon years of doing countless missions, taking orders from ruthless strangers, and constantly being tortured had finally taken its toll on him. She couldn't even begin to imagine what this human being had been through and how painful it must have been to remember all of the horrible shit he underwent. Valeriya's blood boiled and she wanted to kill every single Hydra agent that had hurt the man currently sitting in front of her; nobody deserved to live a life like the way Bucky had lived his.

This had been a normal human being at one point in life; filled with promise, curiosity, and excitement for the future.

All of that had been ripped away from him the moment Hydra found him on the brink of death.

“I remember the war... and falling into the snow,” He explained, “H-He tried to save me, Steve Rogers. I remember losing consciousness in the snow, thinking I was going to die—instead, I woke up in a laboratory, strapped to a table surrounded by strangers. My arm was gone and they had replaced it with... _this_.”

He glared at his bionic arm—a weapon—and curled his fingers into a tight fist as violent memories continued to play on in his head. James didn't want to tell her how the first thing he had done upon waking up was strangle one of the scientists with the metallic appendage they had given him.

As if he had been born a killer, not made into one.

“That wasn't even the worst part.”

“What was?”

“Whenever I finished my missions and they didn't need me anymore, they just stuck me in that _freezer_ ,” He hissed, “I always knew it was inevitable; I was nothing more than an asset to them all along and was never even considered to be a human being.. but I hated it when they put me in that thing.”

“Were you scared?” She asked, the expression on her face soft and even a little sorrowful.

“The Winter Soldier did not have emotions and he did not fear anything,” He spoke almost as though he was some sort of robot, as if Hydra had told him this on a regular basis.

Perhaps they had.

Valeriya scowled at him, “I'm not talking about the soldier, I'm talking about Bucky Barnes—who does have emotions and is capable of fearing things. It's okay to admit that there were moments where you were scared, where you felt all alone and even had doubts about yourself; it only makes you human.”

“I am not human.”

“You could have killed Steve Rogers a long time ago; you hacked into SHIELD's database to see if I was dead or not, you traveled thousands of miles and came to the coldest place on Earth just to talk to me. You remembered what Hydra did to me and... what they did to you and you despise them for that. I don't care what you, or anyone else thinks… you are not just some weapon of mass destruction or Hydra's greatest asset; you are a human. You have a beating heart and you feel pain and sorrow—I can see the guilt in your eyes every time you mention Hydra and all of those things you did for them. Don't you dare think for one second that you are any less of a human being because of all of the things that have happened to you; that was all out of your control.”

Bucky continued to glare down at his hands, thinking of all the innocent lives that he had ended with them. Had he been human then? Surely he didn't feel anything when he was squeezing the life from his victims; if anything he enjoyed knowing that he had successfully completed his mission. Hydra had convinced him that all of those people he had been ordered to killed were a threat and that they needed to be eliminated, but now he wasn't so sure. A lot of them had been SHIELD agents... but SHIELD was supposed to be the good guys? He frowned as the thought of being ordered to kill Valeriya crossed his mind and he was grateful it had never come down to that.

Then he recalled one mission in particular.

It had been the first time he truly doubted Hydra's morals.

“I remember this one mission,” He started, his voice sounding far away, “I had been given the orders to kill an important politician and his wife and any other witnesses or threats who were to get in my way. It was approximately midnight when I broke into their house... they were sleeping and I shot the man in his head. His wife woke up immediately and before she could even scream, I shot her in the head too. I made it look like the man had killed his wife and then committed suicide; I was about to leave through the window, but then I heard crying from down the hall. I went to investigate—to make sure there were no witnesses, but I found a baby instead.”

He turned his head and stared into the fire once again, that night playing on repeat in his mind.

“What did you do?” She asked quietly.

“Hydra had told me to eliminate any witnesses, any threats... and it was crying and screaming so loud that it was giving me a headache. The thought of killing it crossed my mind, but the baby did not seem like a threat at the time. It couldn't even talk yet so it could not have been a witness, so I did not kill it... I just left it there. I had no desire to kill that small thing and I thought there was something wrong with me—that maybe I was defected. I got back to Hydra's base and gave them the full report of my mission, I remember Alexander Pierce being furious with me when I told him about the baby. He ordered my handlers to make my mind wiping treatments longer and more intense, and then I was to be put in the cryogenic stasis until I was needed again.”

“I still think about that mission quite often though,” He whispered solemnly, “Another agent was most likely given the orders to go back and finish what I could not do—kill that infant, but I am grateful that it was not me who had to do it.”

Valeriya did not speak, so Bucky kept his head down as he was afraid to look at the expression on her face. He didn't want her pity and he certainly didn't want her to look at him as though he was a monster, even though he knew he was. The sound of the flames crackling in the fireplace was the only thing that filled the silence.

Then he heard a sniffle and when he looked up there were tears falling from her eyes.

“I'm sorry they put you through that,” She whispered, “That you had to even think about making a decision to kill a baby. Nobody deserves that type of pain... that guilt.”

“Did you ever have to make that kind of decision?”

Valeriya lowered her head as she thought about all of the excruciating decisions she had ever made in her life.

“Yes, a few times.”

Bucky noticed the dark expression on her face, “Did you... were you ever given the orders to kill someone you didn't want to kill?”

“Yes.”

“What did you do?”

“I killed them,” A few tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, “Sometimes I didn't have a choice... sometimes I did, but it was always hard to do it. ‘Don't really know how I made it out alive half of the time, by the time SHIELD fired me, I was so done physically and emotionally. When I first got here, I must have done nothing but sleep for days. I wasn't eating and my immune system was starting to shut down on me completely, I got extremely sick and I really thought I was going to die.”

“What happened?”

“I don't really know,” She admitted sheepishly, “Woke up one morning, covered in my own vomit and blood and realized how hungry I was. Like, I was so hungry I seriously thought I was going to just keel over and die and I'm kinda surprised I didn't, to be honest. I looked in the mirror and could have sworn I could see every rib and bone in my body just...making me look like a living, breathing skeleton. I remember one of my comrades had taught me how to make a bow and arrow in case of an emergency, so I did that and went out into the woods. It took me forever, but I finally killed a rabbit and I eventually got pretty good at it.”

“You learned how to survive on your own.”

She shrugged, “I always knew how to survive on my own, it was just a matter of having the will to live, I suppose.”

Bucky observed her closely and noticed how she was glaring down at a scar that ran all the way from the inside of her wrist to her elbow. The mark had turned into an opalescent colour and judging by the way it seemed to actually dig into her skin, it had been a very deep wound, never fully healing. He wondered how she had acquired this wound and how badly it must have hurt her.

“You think you're a horrible person,” She spoke quietly, “—but you had no control over what you were doing; I did though. I had a choice and I chose to kill people because I was good at it, I was really fucking good at it and I'm sure I still am. If I didn't know any better, I would say I was born solely for the purpose to kill.”

“Maybe I was too.”

“No Bucky, you never had a choice; you are so much better than all of this, _than me_. You were someone's son, a big brother, a best friend and you were a loving person who cared about those people. You protected them and they loved you just as much as you loved them and that was all ripped away from you. They took away your memories and gave you no other option; you weren't born a monster and even after everything you've been through, you are still not a monster.”

“Then neither are you,” He said, looking straight into her eyes.

“You don't know what I've done.”

“No, but I see the guilt in your eyes every day. If you were really a bad person, you would not feel regret for your actions in the past.”

She opened her mouth to protest once again, but he immediately cut her off.

“I have seen my fair share of monsters,” He gazed at her with an unreadable expression, “—and you _definitely_ aren't one of them.”


	4. The Restless

“This is boring.”

Valeriya raised her eyebrows at the man sitting across from her, frost starting to form on his pinched eyebrows. He looked irritated as he stared back at her, disregarding the fishing pole he held in his right hand.

She nearly laughed at his disgruntled attitude.

“Then it should be right up your alley,” She smirked, noticing the way his stormy blue eyes narrowed even more.

After spending a little over a week with Bucky, she had learned that she could get away with pushing his buttons and annoying him. It was entertaining and maybe a little messed up, but she hated seeing the sadness in his eyes some days and she noticed a change in him every time she said something stupid. She never pushed him that much, just enough to get an eye roll or a quiet groan from him, much to Valeriya's amusement. 

She had also learned that some days were better than others for him, and she knew on those good days it was alright to tease him and joke around a little more than usual. He never smiled at anything she said though, and even on his good days he would still refuse to say a single word to her. It's not like she really cared, Valeriya knew she couldn't force him to talk or remember his memories, so she usually just left him to his own thoughts.

“Have you ever caught any fish doing this?”

“You've never heard of ice fishing?” She asked, knowing it was a stupid question, “People do it all of the time.”

“You did not answer my question.”

Valeriya scowled at the large man, “No, I have never caught any fish, but maybe today will be my lucky day. Don't rain on my parade, Bucky.”

“I am only being logical.”

“Well, I've had enough of your logic.”

She was almost positive he rolled his eyes, but she wasn't quite sure and resumed the task at hand. The two of them grew silent, not really knowing what to say to one another. Things had been slightly awkward between them ever since Bucky had confessed his story about the baby he had encountered on one of his missions and he hadn't told her any of his other memories since then. It had taken a toll on him, Valeriya knew that much, and she could see how he was starting to have trouble sleeping or how he would daze off more often than ever. She knew better than to push him, knowing that it could possibly trigger something within his mind and cause a violent outburst. All of her self-defense classes she had taken before becoming an agent most likely wouldn't have been able to save her if Bucky decided to unexpectedly attack her; she'd certainly be able to hold him off for a while, but that bionic arm could easily overpower her at any given moment.

Valeriya tried not to think of that scenario even though she knew fully well that it could always happen.

“I remember when Clint taught me how to fish,” She broke the tense silence, easily catching his attention, “We were hiking through this mountain to find an item that had been stolen from a government base and I wouldn't stop complaining about how hungry I was; I'm pretty sure he was about to murder me and make it look like an accident. He made this makeshift fishing rod, told me how to use it, and then just left for an hour to set up camp and map out our exact coordinates. When he came back, I hadn't caught anything and I had eaten all of the granola bars we packed; I don't think I had ever seen him so pissed off before.”

She laughed and the noise took Bucky by surprise, “He put in a request to Fury asking for a new partner to go on missions with him after that. Then Natasha got stuck with me and there were so many times where I really did think she was going to murder me in my sleep. Then there was this one incident with Maria Hill where I accidentally tazered her, but she kind of deserved that one– and Agent Coulson and I never really got anything finished when we worked together because we were always talking instead. Director Fury stopped trying to pair me up with other agents after that and I started doing missions all alone, something he wasn't really too keen on. It was nice though, being alone on some of those really gory missions and not having to worry if one of my comrades was going to die right in front of my eyes. I don't really even know why SHIELD didn't fire me sooner; I was always so bad when it came to working with other people.”

“You were one of their best agents,” He stated, “I read your file, you've killed over four dictators in the last six years, captured three of the highest ranking members of the Mexican drug cartel, and helped overthrow the Libyan regime, killing Muammar Gadaffi in the process. You've done hundreds of interrogations and never failed a single one and the names I saw on your list of assassinations were quite impressive. I was surprised that Hydra had never given me the orders to find you and kill you; next to Romanoff and Rogers, you're one of the most well-known agents of SHIELD.”

“Wow,” She cocked her head to the side, “You must have been in for a bigger surprise when you finally tracked me down and found someone like me instead of Natasha's little protégé or whatever. Were you expecting someone entirely different? Someone who wasn't so weak and emotional?”

Bucky detected a hint of bitterness in her voice as she mentioned her old comrade.

“No, I remembered you from the helicarrier, I was already aware of your appearance and personality.”

“I thought you would have gone back to the Hydra base,” She admitted timidly, though he couldn't quite blame her.

Bucky knew that she was constantly walking on eggshells every time she was around him, wary that she would say something stupid and he would snap and attack her. To be honest, even he was afraid that he might unintentionally hurt her. There were days where he would lock himself in her bedroom, forcing her to sleep on the couch instead. Those were the days where his head felt like it would explode at any given moment and anything she said would just make something inside of him break and he would kill her. It didn't really cross his mind all that often, but he just knew he'd be able to end her life before she knew what was even happening. Much to his despair, he had even dreamed about it one night– he had snapped her neck and the lifeless look in her dark eyes had been enough to make him avoid her for the entire day. 

It had felt so real.

The sensors in his bionic arm started to whir as he gripped her slender throat tightly, his eardrums twitched as he heard the gruesome noise of bones crushing beneath his hand, he had felt the warm blood trickle from the corner of her mouth and right onto his metal appendage, and he had certainly witnessed the complete and utter fear in her eyes right before he ended her life.

It had only been a nightmare though, and he promised himself it would not become a reality.

“I did not return to Hydra after that day.”

“I don't blame you.”

He didn't respond, not really wanting to talk about what happened in D.C. anymore.

“I told you about my comrades, what about you though? Did you ever work with anyone on your missions?”

“No, I worked alone,” He answered shortly, “I was given a... comrade on one mission a long time ago, but he was compromised by one of our targets and I was given the orders to kill him as well as the girl.”

“Oh,” Valeriya stated lamely, “I'm sorry.”

He lifted his shoulder up into a half-assed shrug, “Don't be, I did what I had to do. I regret it, but I have learned to live with it. Clearly you have not learned to live with your regrets.”

She felt her mouth drop open a little before she can even stop it, “Excuse me?”

“I think you heard me.”

Then her shock gradually faded into something else– anger.

“Why does it even matter to you?”

“It eats away at you... I know it is all you ever think about.”

“Maybe I don't want to learn to live with all of the mistakes I've made!” She sneered, standing up from her spot on the ice, “Maybe I don't care about learning to accept myself for who I am because I know I deserve all of the pain I feel!”

“You think that is the best way to live your life?” He asked apathetically, “Torturing yourself every day because of what happened in the past?”

She let out an incredulous laugh and shook her head vigorously, “Live my life? You call this a life? Look around, James. Did you ever stop to think for one second that I didn't choose to live here? Do you think I just woke up one day and decided to move to the middle of nowhere? I was sent here as punishment for what I had done!”

He merely blinked, surprised by her outburst.

He didn't even think it was possible for Valeriya to be so... infuriated.

“I did something horrible, okay? SHIELD... they found out about something I had done in the past and they found it to be so unforgivable that they decided it was only best to punish me by isolating me from the rest of the world. So I'm sorry that I can't learn to live with the things I've done, I'm sorry that I'm not like you and I just can't forget those things. Do you even know how hard it is not to think about all of the mistakes I've made when I live in the loneliest place on Earth? You have no idea what I go through and why I feel the way I do!”

Valeriya was crying and Bucky almost felt bad.

Almost.

She scoffed when he didn't answer and merely turned away from him, ready to walk back to the house after the intense conversation. Before she could get very far, Bucky easily reached her in a few strides and caught her wrist in his large, metal hand. The scarf she wore was pulled over her mouth and nose, but he could tell she was frowning just by the look in her eyes.

He glared at her, not really caring if he frightened her anymore.

“Yes,” He answered quietly, “I do know what it's like.”

Bucky felt her tense up at his words; clearly she was surprised by his answer.

“You might think I do not feel certain things, and maybe you are right, but I know what it is like to feel lonely and what it is like to feel suffocated by your own thoughts. You think I do not understand the concept of loneliness and what it does to you? How it can turn someone into something they are not? I have spent the majority of my life in a holding cell or the cryo, I was bred to be nothing more than a weapon and Hydra made sure that I was well aware of that. If they were to know I was feeling any emotion at all, except anger, they would beat me until I did not have the strength to feel anything; maybe if they were feeling considerate they would put me through electroshock treatments instead.”

“James, I—“

“I do not have all of my memories,” He interrupted her without a second thought, “But the ones I do have, I make sure to cling on to—no matter how painful they might be. I know they helped shaped me into the person I am today and while that might not be a good thing, it reassures me that I am still alive just like you. I have more blood on my hands than you could ever imagine and I have done things that I probably won't ever be able to talk about, so yes, I do know what it is like. I might not know the exact thoughts that go through your mind, but do not make the assumption that I have never felt the same emotions that you constantly feel because sometimes loneliness and sadness and pain are the only things I feel and I do not know why it hurts me more than anything Hydra ever could have done to me.”

It was probably the most he had spoken to her besides his story he told her a week ago about the baby, and it made her feel absolutely awful.

She noticed the way his eyes seemed to gloss over, but he also seemed to be immensely irritated by her assumptions; his eyebrows were pinched together and a deep frown was etched onto his mature features.

Valeriya dropped her head in shame, not having the slightest clue of what to say to him.

“I am envious of you right now.”

“Why?” She frowned.

His fingers tightened around her wrist, “You have spent all this time wishing you could forget your memories, while I wish I could remember all of mine... if anything, you should feel grateful. You should be grateful that you still have your own mind and it was not pulled apart and tinkered around with like a toy. Do you know what it is like to have everything that makes you who you are just ripped away from you?”

Tears started to obstruct her vision, making his harsh face grow blurry as she shook her head.

“No, I do not.”

Suddenly, she felt like an idiot and wished she could take back all of her words she had spoken to Bucky out of anger. Why did she have to be foolish and make such stupid assumptions? Of course he had experienced the same type of pain she had felt, if not amplified tenfold. Working for Hydra... it was all he had ever really known; he didn't even have a choice.

Before she can apologize, Bucky turned his back to her and started back to her house.

She let out a loud, obnoxious groan and kicked the snow at her feet out of anger, groaning even louder when she flung the snow in her own face.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Valeriya had been staring at Bucky's unclothed back for about ten minutes now, trying to think of something to say.

She stood a few feet behind him as he sat hunched over on the floor in front of the fireplace, attempting to warm himself up after their little adventure in ice fishing. Every now and then, his human hand would reach out towards the flames and he would relax as the heat spread throughout his entire body. He had shed most of his clothes, trading them for the old sweatpants she had let him borrow, not seeming to have any problem with walking around the house half naked. It's not like Valeriya minded or anything, but men in Oymyakon definitely didn't look anything like Bucky– what with his powerful build and prominent facial features. Most of the people here had lived in the freezing village for decades and had learned to adapt to the harsh conditions—even as they aged into their elderly stages.

“I know you have been standing there for approximately ten minutes now,” His voice, as quiet as always, startled the ever-loving shit out of her, “You can sit with me, I do not have any intentions of hurting you or getting angry with you again.”

As if to prove his point, he scooted over and placed his metal hand on the floor next to him, gesturing for her to sit with him.

Valeriya obeyed and hesitantly shuffled closer to him, crossing her legs as she settled down next to him. They didn’t say anything to one another and as the silence continued, Valeriya started to become increasingly aware of the tension that filled the room and surrounded them. Neither one of them had even spared each other a glance since they had gotten home and Bucky wondered if he had maybe crossed some sort of line with her. Some of the things he had said were harsh, he knew this, but he didn't even know where the words had come from. He couldn't even remember a time where he had spoken to someone about the emotions he wasn't allowed to feel when he worked for Hydra and how he couldn't help it sometimes.

A part of him had just become so accustomed to keeping it all to himself.

It felt... nice to talk about it for once.

Valeriya shifted around nervously and Bucky noticed this from his peripheral vision.

“You have something you want to talk about.”

It’s not a question, Bucky just knows.

“I'm sorry,” She glanced at him anxiously, “– for everything I said earlier and making those stupid assumptions. I don't know why I said it... I don't know why I say half the things I do, to be honest.”

“You do not have a filter on your mouth?” He guessed, growing confused when he heard Valeriya laugh softly.

“I'll work on that,” She visibly relaxed, “Really though... I'm sorry Bucky. What I said– it was careless and ignorant of me.”

He shrugged, “I do not want you to think of me as something I am not; that I am still the same man who almost killed you on the helicarrier.”

“I know you're not that same man Bucky, I promise,” She gave him a reassuring smile, “If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it by now.”

“That day in D.C. – I did not want to kill you. I was given the orders to kill Steve Rogers and anyone else who got in my way. You got in my way and I knew I had to kill you but I didn't want to, I didn't mean to choke you the way I did.”

“You were listening to orders and I didn’t fight back, you can’t blame yourself for that.”

“I’ll never forgive myself for hurting you, Valeriya.”

Her mouth dropped open at this confession; she didn’t think Bucky felt so strongly about what had happened that day. After a moment of silence, she gazed up at his face and notices the sincere expression upon his features and instantly smiled up at him. He looked as though he was genuinely sorry for strangling Valeriya and almost killing her with his bionic hand, even though she knew he had just been following Hydra's orders. Then his eyes started to grow wide and frantic and Valeriya knew that he was thinking hard about something.

“I tried to find you,” Bucky admitted, clearly panicked, “You fell from the helicarrier and I couldn’t find you in the water—I found Steve but I couldn’t find—“

“Hey,” Valeriya gently shushed him and gently grabbed his wrist, “Don't think too hard about it, okay? Sam found me underneath all of the rubble; I’m fine, okay?”

“I tried to kill you, it’s not okay.”

“You might have wanted to kill me, but you didn't and I'm still here. It's actually kind of bad news for you because now you're here and you're stuck with me and I'd give it a couple more weeks before you start to regret not killing me earlier.”

“I doubt it, I do not know what I would do if you died.”

“Aw!” She grinned, “That was so sweet.”

“No,” He nearly rolled his eyes, “I do not know how to hunt as well as you do and would most likely die of starvation if you were to die.”

Her mouth dropped open and she glared at him lightheartedly, “Was that a joke?”

“No, it was the truth.”

Bucky turned his head to face her, watching as her dark eyes narrowed at him as she pressed her plump lips together. Upon further inspection, he noticed how she was suppressing a smile and that she wasn't genuinely mad at his statement, she was merely pretending. He felt his own lips twitch as hers finally turned upwards into a grin, causing the corners of her eyes to crease with happiness. A soft, breathy laugh pushed its way past her lips and she shook her head slightly, turning her attention back to the fire in front of her.

“What you said... about clinging onto memories no matter how painful they might be,” She suddenly spoke deeply, “How do you do it without letting the pain consume you?”

“I do not know how to explain without confusing you. I guess I just remind myself occasionally that those memories exist, that I did some horrible things to innocent people who did not deserve what they got. I let myself feel the pain of my mistakes, but I do not let it cripple me. It was in the past and there is nothing I can do to change it, I have to move on and focus on regaining the good memories. I am still hopeful that I will regain memories of my family and my friends which is why I do not let the pain consume me.”

Valeriya stared up at him curiously, “You are so strong and brave.”

“So are you.”

“Not like you,” She whispered with a small shrug, “I’m not really that strong at all; I just… pretend that I am.”

“I don’t think that’s true at all.”

“Why do you think that?” She asked, genuinely curious as to what he had to say.

“Because you wouldn’t be alive right now if you weren’t strong,” He answered honestly, glancing down at her for a quick second, “You’re a survivor… you always have been and it takes strength to survive in a world this dark and cruel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So um, I finally decided to revive this story? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Author's Note:**

> So I posted this like, two or three years ago on mibba and never really got around to finishing it. Recently, I've decided to go back and edit old chapters and even start writing the sequel that I had planned out as well and I kinda fell in love with writing this again and actually feel inspired to continue with it and hopefully improve my writing style. I hope you guys enjoy my first story on here! :)
> 
> Title of the story was inspired by Nine Inch Nails' song, Find My Way, because listening to them while writing this story definitely fueled the amount of angst that I included lmaoo


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